


the gods are cruel (none crueler then you)

by WriterWinged



Series: old gods (new gods) [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Gen, i'm pretty sure that there's more but i don't know what they are
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:54:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27601010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriterWinged/pseuds/WriterWinged
Summary: Survival, Blood, Madness. Philza, Technoblade, Wilbur Soot. Three gods who have never cared for mortal life, who play with them when they want to, who kill their toys just as easily. How, then, did a mortal end up in their hands?
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & TommyInnit, Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: old gods (new gods) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2018470
Comments: 164
Kudos: 1726





	the gods are cruel (none crueler then you)

**Author's Note:**

> i asked tumblr what i should write and someone instantly replied 'angst' so i wrote angst.

Of the gods, many know this: there are very few kind ones, ones that have compassion for the mortal races. There are far more cruel ones, who look at mortals as little more then playthings, puppets with strings to pull on, to make dance to their little game. 

The cruelest wear a mask of kindness, of compassion. They pretend to be the friend of mortals and lead them down a dark path. They use honeyed words and helpful actions and, before the mortal knows, they are twisted to suit the needs of the god. Of the gods, only three are known as the cruelest.

The God of Survival, the one any adventurer prays to before an expedition, despite knowing that he will only ever watch. Survival does not care for mortals, if they do not live, it isn’t his problem. Even the ones that do barely matter to him, he is far more concerned with projects and builds that will survive, no matter what.

The Blood God, the one only cultists pray to. He is the one to stalk the battlefields and soak his garments red. Where there is war, the Blood God follows, egging it new and greater heights, reveling in the death and blood. He lives only for war and death and blood and will do anything to have it.

The God of Madness, the worst of them all. He who befriends mortals, only to twist them until they’d turn on their friends for power and a shred of his attention. He cast them aside then, lets them wander without him and only aware of the interesting repercussions.

Survival, Blood, Madness. Philza, Technoblade, Wilbur Soot. Three gods who have never cared for mortal life, who play with them when they want to, who kill their toys just as easily. How, then, did a mortal end up in their hands?

———

It begins when Wilbur comes to the home he shares with the others with a mortal boy trailing behind him. The boy chatters like a bird, his voice non-stop and loud. It only takes a look from Technoblade to silence him, but even that doesn’t last long.

“Why is there a brat following you, Wilbur?”

“He’s interesting.”

“He’s yours to deal with then. Don’t think me or Techno are going to deal with him more then necessary.” And with that, the boy is given, unknowingly, to three cruel, cruel gods. These gods will play with him, make him love them, make him worship them, then cast him aside, as they have so many times before.

(Here is where it begins: it is cold and the snow is thick on the ground. The blue-eyed boy trudges stubbornly through the snow that reaches his waist, when he hears the sound of someone singing. He hides behind a tree and watches the man in a beanie and yellow sweater strum a guitar.

This is step one, on a long, long path.)

———

It continues when the boy begins to grow up. He looks at the three cruel, cruel gods with love and thinks they look back at him with it as well. He learns how to use his words as well as Wilbur, takes to training with Technoblade with enthusiasm, listens to the stories that Philza tells with fascination.

He grows up and the scars he collects are few and far between. He never collects one for the same reason twice, learning and surviving. He takes what he is told and puts it to practice, proving himself again and again.

He grows up and he spills his blood carelessly. Papercuts and skinned knees and bitten lips, all tended to by a soft hand and a monotone voice. His injuries heal without a scar and blood never stains his skin long.

He grows up and his mind twists around a path of stone. There is a line that he will not cross, but all else is fair game. He learns from a singing voice and manic cackles as the garden of his mind blooms dark and bright.

(Here is where is continues: the house is warmed by a brilliant laugh and each day seems to dawn brighter then the last. There is music in the house, a loud voice insisting that he continue. There are nights on the couch under a blood-red cape, a story drifting in the air. There is a boy pressed against a rumbling side, soft breaths as they all exist in this home.

This is the end of the beginning of the path, and it does not get easier.)

———

The end starts like this: some gods are not born, they are made, be it by feats of fate or the work of another. These gods are the most dangerous and the weakest. And there is another of these self-made gods. He killed the ender dragon and his name is Dream. He is the God of Challenges.

Wilbur hears about this new-born god, but he isn’t interested until he learns of the country he makes for himself. And, oh, oh, this is perfect. The boy has been with them for years now, surely it is time to let him go?

(It does not go that way, the boy is not cut out so easily. He never will be.)

So away the two go, to the kingdom of SMP, the other two seeing them off. They travel, but along the way, Wilbur leaves the boy and waits to see what he does. He does nothing, the stone path too well set, the plants not able ~~willing~~ to break it, so Wilbur does some pushing.

Before he knows it, there is a revolution in the infant kingdom, the new god too busy to learn what Wilbur really is. Wilbur is kind and charismatic and he leads them so, so beautifully. Even the betrayal is wonderful, almost shattering the mortals’ little group, but the boy pulls them together.

(The line is being edged, the betrayal stings, but the boy is strong. He was raised by the cruelest.)

And so there is a duel, ten paces, fire! An arrow that misses and an arrow that hits and the revolution is at it’s end. Wilbur looks down at the boy, breath gasping and a wound that should kill him, and feels ~~regret~~ nothing. He turns away without a thought for the boy.

(Far away, in an empire raised and made from the cold, as the blood is being cleaned from halls of ice, two gods pause and look to where their third resides, something pulling at their hearts. He is unharmed, so they turn away without a thought for the boy.)

(The path of stone does not shatter, each stone surrounded by obsidian and placed in blood. The plants curl protectively around the edge, but do not try to break the stones.)

(Tommy is in the darkness. He can’t see, can’t hear, there is nothing but darkness. He calls for his brothers, but they do not answer. The path of stone trembles.)

———

The boy lives and bargains away his two most prized possessions for the revolution. They win, not by might, but by words. For some reason, there is warmth in Wilbur’s chest when he looks at the boy, chest still wrapped in bandages.

Wilbur understands now why the God of Challenges chose to make a kingdom for himself. The power is intoxicating and what better way to cement himself as the ruler then an election? The people love him, believe that everything he does is for them, rather the himself. He will win and never let go of the country. It will only ever know him and his rule. 

Here is where it goes wrong, where the path gets hard.

———

Once upon a time, there was a goat. This goat had a group of friends that he loved, little brothers that he played with. They were happy, governed by a king that was more brother then ruler.

The goat run across a boy. The two become fast friends, linked by a shared love of mischief and humor. Together, they are terrors that do no harm.

Here is the twist: the boy is not a boy, he is a god. He whispers honeyed words that disguise poison into the goat’s ear, turn him cruel and greedy. Soon, not even his once-brothers recognize him. Only the king-brother realizes what has happened to the goat and so convinces all but three to leave, to flee someplace safe.

The god disguised as a boy drowns the goat and burns him in lava, breaking him into unrecognizable pieces. Here is where the god leaves, content with his fun. He cares not for what the goat does, if he lives or dies.

(This is not the end to the goat’s story. Of the three that remained, one never stops trying to put the pieces back together. For his deed, he ascended and became a God in his own right.)

———

The first test is when it is not just his party running. No, instead the fox and the baker make one, saying that he has done enough, that it is their turn. Instead, a newcomer with duck wings makes a pact with a former enemy. Instead, a familiar goat throws his hat in the ring.

(Wilbur looks and sees only a senile madman, exactly what he wants to see.)

Regardless of the other parties, regardless of fraud, he and the boy win and for a moment, all is well. Until he receives a note of a last-minute alliance that takes it all away.

The second test is when he and the boy are exiled, but Wilbur could see the fear in the goat’s eyes when he looked at him, in how he curled his fingers around the shoulder of the boy left behind. That is what tips him into staying and revolting.

(Wilbur denies that it is the boy that convinces him to fight.)

Technoblade shows up and urges his brother to fight, a manic gleam in his eyes at the thought of fighting, at the thought of spilling blood. And Wilbur falls, deeper and deeper into his madness.

(Here is where the boy is tested: as his brothers turn into people he doesn’t recognize, as his father doesn’t respond to any letters. He is tested when Dream shows up and aids in his brothers’ madness, giving them the means to destroy everything they worked towards.

Tommy is tested the day that he means to tell his best friend about the bombs and Wilbur nearly kills him, only the timely intervention of Schlatt and Fundy saving Tubbo from a grisly death.)

———

Here is the end: the day of the festival dawns bright and brilliant. The mortals of Wilbur’s country betray him with every laugh and smile that they give the goat and the boy that walks beside him. Wilbur burns with a rage that he has never felt before.

Technoblade, invited by the man he is helping plot the downfall of, shows off, proving himself the strongest and most well-prepared of them all. Only some of them are wary of the god.

The goat watches with proud, clear eyes as his boy gives a speech to the nation he helped make and Wilbur burns even more. The boy watches him warily, trying to make sure that the button is not pressed. The speech ends, the boy is too slow. 

Manburg explodes, but none go off in the fairgrounds. It doesn’t matter, the goat’s boy is launched from the stage and at the feet of the Blood God. He looks up with wide blue eyes and Technoblade draws his sword back and swings. Blood arcs through the air and stains the ground red.

(Tommy moves but he is too slow, Wilbur manages to press the button before he can stop him, throwing him from the building. His laughter shakes the air as he stands on the roof and looks at Schlatt as the ground rolls under the force of the explosions. He barely manages to shield himself from one right next to him, scrabbling to his feet.

“I must say, Schlatt, you tried your very best! But you’ve forgotten who I am! Allow me to remind you.” Tommy only has eyes for his best friend, at the feet of his brother. It doesn’t even take a thought for him to ender pearl in front of him.

He never sees the sword coming.)

———

This is where the path has led: to a mortal boy staring into the eyes of the Blood God as his sword is buried in his chest, blood dribbling from his lips. The God of Madness’s laughter cutting out as he registers the sight in front of him. The silence of a festival as everyone stares at one brother slaughtering another.

(Here is a truth: Dream gives Wilbur duds, bombs that are made of sand and concrete. He knows that something is wrong but he has no idea how to save the man that might have been Wilbur. Only one person has ever done that, and Schlatt cannot reach him in time.)

In a world of fire and death, where the eternally suffering cry, the God of Survival drops to his knees as a horrible pain lances through his heart. He struggles to his feet and _flies_.

(Here is a lie: Philza never thinks about Tommy, never worries that he will survive. He never spares a thought for the boy that listened to his stories a thousand times with the same wonder in his eyes. He does not love the mortal boy.)

The Blood God stares into bright blue eyes as tears drip down his baby brother’s cheeks, his blood sliding down the length of his sword and dripping onto his hand.

(Here is a truth: Technoblade never liked the sight or smell of Tommy’s blood. That is why he wraps up cuts and tends to wounds, never because it makes his heart ache when he looks at him stained with his own blood. He is not willing to admit he loves a mortal.)

The God of Madness is not laughing as he looks down upon his brothers and stares at those brilliant lights slowly going out. He stand above all the chaos he has wrought but only has eyes for the boy.

(Here is a lie: Wilbur, from the moment Tommy stumbled upon him, has only ever thought of him as an amusing toy, a puppet to lead around and discard later. Not once has he ever sung solely so his baby brother can sleep better. He is not afraid of how much he cares.)

———

The path has no ended yet, there are still a few more steps to walk. But the path has forked. On one side, the boy survives, on the other, the boy dies. The steps aren’t for him to walk, though, not anymore. No, these final steps are entirely up to the Gods who raised him.

(In one story, they leave, only a gravestone to mark their passage. The castle in the Nether Void stays half-built. The sword is thrown aside and never picked up again. There is only one song sung forevermore. This is not that story. This story hurts, but it’s not a tragedy.)

In this story, the path taken is the one where the God of Survival, for the first time, tips the scales and encourages someone to live. In this story, the path taken is one where the Blood God places his hands upon a wound and refuses to let anymore blood slip out. In this story, the path taken is one where the God of Madness holds someone together instead of tearing them apart.

(“Tommy, Tommy, don’t you dare close your eyes, you hear me? Don’t you dare.”

“Wil…bur?” A hand, raised and grasped tightly, “I’m… scared… Please don’t… go.”

“We aren’t going anywhere, Tommy. Me and Wil are staying right here until dad gets here.”

“D…ad?”

“Yeah, yeah, dad’s coming. There’s no way he’ll let you die, baby brother.”)

(“Tubbo!” Suited arms pulled the teenager away as his head was tucked under Schlatt’s chin. The goat dragged him further away from the two gods, not even his own relief enough to make him put down his guard.

“Wait, no, Tommy!” Tubbo’s arms reached out for his best friend as Schlatt pulled him away, Quackity joining the two, his wings fluttering in distress, “Tommy!”)

(“Did you know what they were, Dream?” George hissed, not taking his eyes off the small figures in the festival grounds.

“No! I’ve never met the God of Madness and Techno’s completely different as the Blood God. I had no clue that I’d invited two of the worst gods into my territory!”

“Hey! The two of you can argue later, help me disarm the rest of this TNT.”)

———

The Nether Portal in the SMP shakes and all but explodes when Philza dives through it, his massive wings carrying him to the place where all three of his sons are. The first thing he sees is Tommy’s head in Wilbur’s lap, Techno’s hand pressing down on a gaping sword wound.

He lands with a thump on the other side of Tommy, his hands coming to rest over his sons’. None of them have ever healed someone before, always the ones to inflict the damage and uncaring of the consequences. They’ve never cared about a mortal before, not like their little brother.

(Some gods are not born, they are made. Sometimes by great feats, sometimes by deeds. Sometimes, because they manage to do the impossible, like make the three cruelest gods kind.)

Their little brother breathes, in, out. In, out. In, out, and into his bones settles divinity. It rushes through his blood, spreads from his heart, moves through his lungs. Tommy breathes, in, out. In, out. In, out. His eyes flickered closed against his wishes.

(Tommy Innit was raised in a house of gods. He was forged by Survival, tempered by Blood, encouraged by Madness. Yet through it all, Tommy Innit stayed. The stone path remained, not overtaken by obsidian or blood or plants. It stayed and so did he.)

Tommy Innit opened his eyes and the God of Kindness looked up at the faces of his family.

**Author's Note:**

> i will argue about tommy being a god of kindness. try me.


End file.
